Noman (18 page)

Authors: William Nicholson

So she remembered. She had been imprisoned here by Caressa. She lay still and listened. No sounds of any kind. The Orlans were either asleep or gone.

No sounds of soldiers, but there were other sounds. The colored night was singing, a faraway round like the voices of children repeating the same lilting phrases, one after the other, a weave of sweet high song. Morning Star felt as if all her senses had been magnified, so that even under the blanket of night she could see and hear for miles. It seemed to her that no living thing could elude her notice; that she could hear the soft breathing of rabbits deep in their burrows, and see the turquoise sheen on the breast feathers of pigeons in the trees.

I could see him, too.

Seeker was out there somewhere in this glowing, humming night. She needed only to see far enough.

Climb the tower.

It came to her as an urge more than as a plan. The tower was ruined and dangerous, its flights of stairs only half supported by its fragmented walls, but this was the way to the top. So Morning Star began to climb.

The darkness made it easier, because it turned the drop below her into a pool of dark blue. The air on either side was deep green and cushiony. She climbed boldly, feeling her way with her hands, marvelling at this new world. Above in the square of sky shimmered the first faint gleams of the coming dawn.

She kept close to the walls and made her way safely from step to step, feeling the treads shift beneath her weight. After the third flight, she reached a point where one side of the tower had crumbled away. Here the stairway, making its circuit of the walls, reached out into open air, supported by nothing more than its own structure.

She felt the nearest exposed tread with one foot and judged that it would hold her. She pressed on it. It creaked but did not break. She stepped fully onto it, and from there to the next step. So up and out she climbed, into the open air. As she stepped on the last of the unsecured treads, she reached for the solid stonework ahead and misjudged the distance. She stumbled and righted herself, kicking back hard on the stair. It gave a sharp crack. She grabbed for the branches of clinging elder and pulled herself onto the stone supports. The stair sagged behind her, and for a moment the entire timber structure hung in the still dawn air. Then it leaned and broke and fell crashing to the ground.

No way down now. But Morning Star wanted only to go up and to be at the top to greet the rising sun; so on she went, no longer fumbling her way forward, stepping lightly and rapidly from tread to tread. The stairway rocked beneath her, but she passed too quickly for it to give way.

The sky lightened as she climbed. The sun had still not shown itself above the eastern mountains as she pulled herself at last onto the platform on the top of the tower. She stood up, holding on to the topmost branches of the climbing elder, and drew a deep calming breath and looked round.

A long stripe of the palest primrose yellow was spreading across the horizon. Below lay the gleam of the great lake and the silver thread of the river running to the sea. To the west loomed the dark mass of the Glimmen. To the south, the hills where she had been born and the plains where the people of the Joyous would soon be waking. And all round the humming song, growing ever louder, filling the air.

She heard a bird call, and another, and knew then that there were birds singing everywhere and that their song was part of the waking world's song. She turned east again, feeling a tingling on her cheeks, and as she did, the sun rose. With the burning scarlet disc came an explosion of colors. The sky turned crimson and gold, and the land was lit amber and purple, and all that had been submerged in the deep colors of night now began to glow with new life. She gazed in wonder at the beauty of the world and heard the triumphal song of the new day carolling in her ears.

Somewhere out there was Seeker. She scanned the land more slowly now, her gaze taking in villages and early travellers on the roads, looking for the color that only Seeker possessed. She let her eyes idle, and listened to the singing of the world, and wondered why she had never heard it before.

The Beloved has woken me to joy, she thought, then smiled with happiness. Seeker would hear the singing too, when she brought him to the Joyous. He too would share her happiness.

Then, through the leaves of the clinging elder, she caught the faraway flicker of gold she had been looking for. It came from the northwest, close to the walled road. She looked intently, memorizing the location so that she could find it again on the ground. There was the road, and near the road, a group of spindly trees, and between the trees, the sparkle of gold aura that could only be Seeker.

She parted the high branches of elder and leaned over the parapet of the tower, wanting to be closer to him. As she did so, she saw the distances shrink and the colors of the land race towards her. She pulled back, alarmed, and shut her eyes. When she opened her eyes again, she found something strange was happening to her. The colors were closing in. The experience wasn't unpleasant. In fact, it was beautiful; but it was also frightening because it took away all measures of space. She no longer felt as if she looked down on the land from a high tower. The land was right there, before her. If she reached out a hand, she could touch it. Only it was no longer solid. It was made of color.

Is this good or bad? she thought to herself. Am I seeing the world as it really is, or am I going mad?

She looked again for the golden gleam that was Seeker, and it was there before her, now even more abundant, a cascade of gold; more than a cascade, a waterfall. She gazed at it and saw that the gold was the reflection of sunlight on falling water, it was a million dancing, tumbling mirrors of the rising sun, and the waterfall was high and broad—a streaming curtain that filled half the horizon before her. For all its immense size, the waterfall held no fear for her. She put out her hand to let it be splashed by the golden stream, but the waterfall was farther from her than she had at first realized. Nor was it gold alone. All the colors she had ever seen were bursting from that great plunging torrent, it was ruby red and jade green, sapphire and topaz and carnelian, its spray was silver and diamonds. She reached further, wanting to cup her hands in the beauty, wanting to splash her face with the jewelled water. But still it was too far.

So I must fall into it, then.

It seemed obvious to her now that this was why she had climbed the tower. The notion of falling wasn't strange. It had been with her all her life. But always before it had been a terror. Now it was a joy.

You don't know where you end and others begin.

She laughed to think of it. No end, no beginning. Everything flowed into everything else. Why should she not flow into the colors of the waterfall?

But I'm in the waterfall already. I'm falling already. Everything's falling. That's what the waterfall is. Why was I ever afraid? The stream carries us all away.

She leaned out more, reaching her arms towards the waterfall, and still she couldn't quite touch it. So she reached further.

Now, slowly at first, she felt herself begin to fall.

"Here I go," she said to herself, as the colors embraced her. "One perfect dive."

The children found her.

"She's dead," said Burny.

"Nobody goes up a tree to die," said Libbet.

Morning Star was lying in a deep hole in the tree with her eyes closed and her arms open, supported by a hammock of tangled creepers.

"Wake up, lady," said Burny. "Don't be dead."

"Stupid boggy baby," said Libbet.

They climbed the branches and broke the creepers one by one, and so Morning Star slithered by her own weight out of the dense growth to the ground below. Here she lay, motionless. They fetched water from the ditch and splashed it over her. When this had no effect, Libbet took hold of her arm and pinched her.

"Wake up, lady," she said. "We come after you. Don't be dead."

The pinching did it. Morning Star stirred, then opened her eyes.

She took in the little band of grave-faced children and then looked round her at the walls of the old fort, and the fields beyond. Then she looked back at the children.

"What happened to you?" she said.

"Nothing happened to us," said Libbet. "You're the one that got happened. We found you in a tree."

"Where did it go?"

Her voice faded to silence.

"We come after you," said Burny. "First Hem. Then us."

"Hem's gone," said Libbet.

"You got to come back," said little Deedy.

Morning Star's eyes slowly filled with tears. She was remembering Hem; but there was something else, too. Something she had lost.

"She's hurt," said Burny. "She's crying."

"Not hurt," said Morning Star. "Only bruised. I fell from the tower."

They looked up and were awed.

"You fell from up there!"

"What did you go up there for?"

"To look out at the world," said Morning Star. Then she remembered the brilliant colors of the dawn land, and she knew why she had tears in her eyes.

She had lost her colors.

The children before her had no auras. The land beyond them was no longer bright. She was seeing now as all others saw, but to her it was as if a veil had been drawn over the world. The melting beauty of the waterfall had been her last glory. She had dived into the colors, and now they were gone.

She wept for her lost gift. All her life she had taken it for granted, even resented it; but now that it was gone, she felt stripped of meaning. The only secret that had ever given her value was gone. What use was she now?

"Don't cry, lady," said little Deedy, starting to cry herself.

So Morning Star dried her eyes and rose to her feet, feeling the aching all over her body from the violence of her fall.

"You children must go back," she said. "The roads are dangerous."

"Not to us," said Libbet, drawing her knife.

"We're coming with you," said Burny.

"Hem got lost," said Libbet. "He always makes a muck."

Morning Star looked about her and considered what best to do. She had set out to find Seeker, at the request of the Beloved. Now more than ever she longed to find him. She would tell him all that had happened, and he would understand. She remembered exactly where she had seen his colors and reckoned it was not so far from the old fort. Once she had found him, she would be heading back to the Joyous, which was where she meant the children to go.

"Come along, then," she said. "We're going to find a friend of mine."

***

They saw the Caspian first, near the grove of umbrella pines. The beautiful beast was grazing in the roadside ditches where the grass was sweetest. The children were wide-eyed with admiration.

"Can I touch it? Does it bite? Look at its long hair!"

Morning Star left them to crowd round Kell, who accepted their pokings and pettings with patience. She herself went on to the trees.

It was still early in the morning, and the sun threw her shadow far before her as she approached. The hollow between the pines was also in shadow, and at first she couldn't see if there was anyone there. Then she came closer and saw a hand on the ground, reaching out into the sunlight. She came forward quietly and saw an arm, and then a head resting on a rolled badan. It was Seeker, as she had known it would be. But he was not alone.

Morning Star stood absolutely still and gazed at them as they slept: Seeker and the pale lovely forest girl called Echo. He was lying on his back with his arms thrown out beyond his head and his face turned a little to one side. He looked young and kind and familiar. Echo lay with her head resting on his chest, one arm reached across his body. Her fair hair spilled over his tunic. Her face was even lovelier in sleep.

A silent sadness welled up in Morning Star as she looked. Her body, already bruised and hurting from her fall, now felt the weary drag of a new burden.

Must everything be taken from me?

After this thought came a stab of shame. Seeker was her friend, nothing more. Why should he not love someone else? She saw again the look on his face as he had listened to her besotted ramblings about the Wildman. Not once had he reproached her. And she—she had taken his loyalty for granted, because he had always been there for her.

Until now.

What's wrong with me? she said to herself. Do I only want what I can't have?

She saw it so clearly now that it was too late. Of course she loved Seeker. She had always loved him. He had always been there waiting for her.

There came a shout from the children. Burny had tried to climb on Kell's back and had fallen off. Morning Star looked round and saw him clamber back to his feet unharmed.

The cry woke Echo. Her eyes opened. She saw Morning Star, saw that Seeker slept on, and made a sign, one finger to her lips, to let him sleep. Quietly she rose, and the two of them moved away so that they could talk without disturbing him.

"He sleeps poorly," said Echo. "Let him sleep while he can."

She sounded agitated. She kept looking from Morning Star to Seeker.

"Why have you come?"

"I've been looking for him. He has to come back with me."

"Why? What for? Why should he go with you?"

Echo spoke jerkily, and her face kept twisting.

"Maybe he won't," said Morning Star. "That's up to him."

"He's mine," said Echo, suddenly fierce. "He kissed me. He loves me."

Morning Star looked away, not trusting herself to speak. She had seen them as they lay together in sleep. Of course Seeker loved this beautiful girl.

"He's going to stay with me forever." Echo came very close and repeated the words in a whisper. "Forever and ever!"

The children, tiring of Kell, now came to them. They stared at Echo.

"Who are you?" said Libbet.